The Discovery
by Shorina
Summary: A story of professional partnership, friendship and, ultimately, love, woven into canon. Morse/Lewis slash written for yuletide 2010.
1. The Beginning

I wrote this story for **yuletide** 2010 as a present for **missmalapert** who had wished for a romance story for Morse and Lewis. As she was also curious about how their relationship developed, both professionally and personally/romantically, I wove my story into the plot up to the episode Masonic Mysteries. For that reason, this fic contains a lot of quotes from the show, I don't claim any rights to those words or any of the appearing characters.

* * *

_The day he first meets Lewis isn't what Morse would call a good day. The woman he had developed an interest in is dead. He doesn't pay the young Sergeant standing just inside Anne Staveley's house a lot of attention when he arrives, his mind is reeling with other thoughts._

_He becomes aware of Lewis when the Sergeant nearly arrests him as a burglar a day or two later. Their following discussion at the close by pub shows that Lewis, a young Northerner, nowhere near as educated as Morse himself, has a brain and knows how to use it. Even if it means that Lewis suspects he might be involved in Anne Staveley's death. Still, Lewis has left a positive impression with Morse. A man like this should not have to work with someone like Bell, Morse thinks._

_Another couple of days later, Morse's luck turns._

**Investigation of the murder of Anne Staveley  
The White Horse Pub, late morning, Superintendent Strange and Chief Inspector Morse have been discussing Morse's possible involvement in the murder of Anne Staveley  
**"All right, Morse, I believe you had nothing to do with the murder," Strange says. "So, with Bell gone, I want you to take over the case in the morning. You seem familiar enough with it anyway."  
"May I ask that you assign Sergeant Lewis to me?" Morse asks between gulps of his pint.  
Strange seems surprised. "You of all people are asking me to assign you a partner? You've managed to fend off all my prior attempts to do so. Why Lewis?"  
"Well, he's been working the case from the start..."  
"I doubt he knows anything about it that you don't." Strange seems wary.  
"I'd still quite like him to work with me on this case. He's not been assigned to anyone else yet, has he?"  
"Well, no, I meant to speak to him about that later today. But... you and Lewis? Do you think that's a good idea, Morse? I'm sure we can find someone better suited..."  
"Lewis will be fine, thank you, Sir."  
Strange shakes his head, bewildered. "All right, Morse, he's yours for this case."  
"Thank you, Sir," Morse says and contentedly downs the remains of his pint.

_Morse and Lewis prove to be a successful team, though it takes them time to figure out how to deal with each other. They are, after all, quite different people. Still they manage to overcome both their differences and Strange's doubts and solve the case. Morse isn't sure whether the day they finally close it is a good or a bad day. The case may be closed, but it also concludes his partnership with Lewis. As annoying as Lewis's cheerfulness and lack of education can be, he's grown rather fond of the younger man. But he remembers the words Strange said to him over their pints: 'He's yours for this case.' The case is over._

**Jericho, outside Anne Staveley's house, the day the suicide notice has been found  
**"I'll see you tomorrow, Sir," Lewis tells the retreating figure of Morse but never gets a reply. Confused, he looks after his new boss. The man still is a mystery to him in so many ways. But he is clever, those rumours he had heard definitely were true. Finally he shrugs and drives home to his family.

**Superintendent Strange's office, the following morning  
**"You wanted to see me, Sir?" Lewis asks as he enters Strange's office.  
"Ah, Lewis. Yes, do come in." Strange looks at some papers on his desk, then focuses on the young Sergeant. "So, Lewis, with Bell promoted we'll have to find someone else for you to work with..."  
Lewis is so surprised by this that he cuts his boss off. "I thought you had assigned me to Chief Inspector Morse, Sir?"  
"For the Staveley case, yes. I suppose you must be glad to be rid of him again."  
"So, this wasn't a permanent assignment?"  
"You and Morse?" Strange seems on the verge of laughing out loud, but doesn't. "Look, Lewis. Morse is..."  
As the Superintendent struggles for words, Lewis spurts out the first words that come to his mind, words that Morse himself said to him when he told him they'd be working together. "He's a quite different kettle of fish than Superintendent Bell."  
Strange seems surprised. "Well, yes, I suppose that's one way to put it." He slightly frowns at the young Sergeant.  
"I'm sure I can learn a lot from him," Lewis continues.  
"Lewis, are you trying to tell me you want to keep working with Morse?"  
"I don't see why I shouldn't, Sir."

_And with that, a partnership is formed. A partnership that is bound to last for a very long time._


	2. I'll Be There For You

_As more murders occur in Oxford, Morse and Lewis get to know each other a bit better, a little more every day. They're still good at annoying each other, Morse showing it openly, Lewis holding back, too well-mannered to complain to his superior. But it cannot stop them from slowly developing a bond beyond their work partnership. Morse grows fonder of his Sergeant every day, though he tries not to show it. But he's not the only one..._

**Investigation of the murder of Harry Josephs  
The top of the roof of the bell tower of St. Oswald's Chruch**_  
_Lewis looks down at the dead body lying on the rim of the roof of the main church. A scratchy noise emerges from behind him followed by a thump. He doesn't turn immediately but when he does, his eyes take in the sight of his unconscious boss lying on the roof. Lewis walks over to him, crouches down and observes, making sure the older man is breathing. He reaches forward to loosen the Chief Inspector's tie, then opens the top button of the shirt underneath.  
"Sir? Can you hear me?"  
He cradles the older man's head in his hands, gently feeling for wounds, letting out the breath he never realized he's been holding when he doesn't find any.  
Blue eyes slowly open and settle upon his face. "Lewis...?"  
"You all right, Sir?" He asks.  
Morse groans but slowly sits up. "Yes, yes, I'm fine."  
Lewis still seems concerned. "We'd better get you down, like. And call backup so we get him down, too." He points in direction of the body on the roof below.  
"Down is a word I like a lot right now," Morse says, running a hand over his face.  
Lewis stands and holds out his right hand which Morse takes. He pulls his boss to his feet, however when he tries to take Morse's arm to guide him safely to the stairs, the older man pulls away. "Don't fuss, Lewis," he scoffs.  
Lewis decides if his boss manages to sound gruff already again, he probably is fine. "I'll go ahead, Sir, shall I?" Lewis offers.  
Morse nods, his gaze grimly focused on the entrance to the staircase.  
Lewis throws one last worried glance at Morse before he enters the narrow staircase.

_It doesn't take Lewis very long to realize that Morse is a lonely man and his loneliness makes him reach out to a lot of people, mostly women. But Lewis is not convinced that Morse is choosing the right women to reach out to. _

**some days later at the same place  
**Ruth Rawlinson cradles the Chief Inspector in her arms. "Are you all right?"  
"I am now," Morse croaks in return and leans on her, still breathing heavily from the attempted strangulation.  
Lewis turns away and leaves the roof. He had asked the same question just a moment earlier but only received a vague "I don't know yet" for an answer. And now this. Wasn't it he who pulled the man off Morse, saved his life? Again, after the incident in the Martins' kitchen not all that long ago?  
He shakes his head as he walks down the steps of the tower, trying to rid himself of the pang of jealousy that has overcome him.

_Lewis would be glad to be there for Morse, but he's not sure his company is what the Chief Inspector desires. Still, when he feels Morse should not be on his own, Lewis is there, offering his help and company._

**later the same day at a pub in Oxford  
**"I think I'll be more comfortable at home tonight," Morse declares glumly.  
Lewis looks up at his boss with surprise and a little worry. "You haven't finished your beer!"  
"Oh, I'm off the beer. I can't think why..." Morse turns to leave and Lewis jumps to his feet.  
"I'll drive you home, Sir." Morse not finishing a pint does worry him and he wants to make sure his boss gets home safely.  
"Thank you, Lewis," Morse says, sounding like he means it.  
During the drive, Lewis occasionally glances at Morse but the Chief Inspector either doesn't notice or decides not to react. Neither man speaks until Morse lets them into his place... "Did you ever read that, Lewis?" He asks, pointing at a book that catches his eye when they enter his living room. Lewis picks it up, he's never even heard of it.  
However, when he leaves a few minutes later, content that Morse is home and safe, Lewis borrows the book. It's one of the things he's already learned from working with Morse, not to let a chance to learn something new pass him by when the Inspector thinks it'll do him good.


	3. From Colleague To Friend

_They've become work partners, they know what to expect of each other and they're settling into their roles, learn to trust each other.. But they're beginning to enjoy each other's company more and more, too. Neither man is willing to call it by its name, but friendship is growing between them. A friendship based on trust and sympathy, a friendship they show through their good-natured joking and banter._

**Investigation of the murder of Laura Poindexter  
Morse's living room around 4am  
**"They say sex is very good for the over sixty fives," Morse solemnly states, making his Sergeant grin.  
"Oh, do they?"  
"Hope for us all. Especially if we didn't get much before sixty five."  
"You've got sex on the brain!" Lewis declares, trying not to laugh out loud.  
Morse stares into his beer for a moment before he speaks again. "'Tis when he thinks he's past love, it is then he meets his last love."  
Lewis is puzzled. "Pardon?"  
"Love's Sweet Old Song, Lewis." He says something else that Lewis doesn't quite get as he's slightly nodding off. He's been yawning on and off for the last couple of hours.  
"Wake up, Lewis!"  
Lewis blinks and tries to look alert while Morse informs him of his assignment for the morning. But he barely manages to hear the end of it before sleep claims him again.

_Morse looks at his Sergeant and shakes his head, half amused, half annoyed. But he doesn't have the heart to wake his Sergeant again. Just an hour or two of sleep will hopefully improve Lewis's performance in the morning, he tells himself.  
Morse stays awake, he thinks about the case for a while until his mind wanders and he finds himself observing the young man asleep on the other end of the couch. A fond smile works its way onto the Chief Inspector's face._


	4. Trust Is Easily Broken

_Even friends argue occasionally and not all is well between the detectives. Morse is Morse and he's a stubborn man. Too stubborn at times. And it's putting the young friendship to a test when Lewis feels the Chief Inspector has gone too far. He's not willing to take the matter to the Chief Superintendent but his anger needs release._

**Investigation of the disappearance of Valerie Craven  
The house of the deceased Cheryl Baines  
**"Good day, Lewis," Max greets the Sergeant when he arrives.  
"Sir."  
The absent minded greeting makes Max take a second look at Lewis. "What's he done?"  
"Who?" Lewis looks puzzled.  
"Morse! I've seen that look on people's faces before. What's the old fool done this time?"  
Lewis looks away. "I'd rather not say, Sir."  
"Come on, you can tell me. I don't think there's much about Morse that can still shock me. And talking is going to make you feel better." They reach the side of the body of Cheryl Baines at the bottom of the stairs. Max puts down his bag and sets to work but stops and look up at Lewis again. "He's really upset you, has Morse." It sounds more like a statement than a question.  
Lewis pulls a face. "Yeah."  
"So?"  
Lewis stares off into the distance for a moment, then crouches down opposite the pathologist. "All this time he keeps telling me Valerie Craven, that missing girl we're looking for, he keeps claiming she's dead. He's been talking as if he wants her to be dead. We've got a letter she sent to her parents but he doesn't believe it's for real." He pauses and looks around, making sure none of the colleagues can eavesdrop. "He even forged a letter to prove how easy it is to meddle with the facts, like. He's really gone too far this time."  
Max has been going about his business while Lewis spoke and now adds his comment without looking up. "That's Morse for you. Once he gets an idea into his head, he's not willing to give it up."  
"Yeah, I know. You can't work with him and not notice. But this..."  
Max looks up at him. "You haven't told anyone about it."  
Lewis glances left and right. "No, of course not."  
Max nods. "You're a good lad, Lewis. You'll deal with the situation. Morse sometimes needs someone to put him back on track. You might be just the man to do it."  
Lewis stands up again, shaking his head. How is he supposed to get Morse back on track? Right now he's simply bloody pissed off at his boss for his behaviour.

_When Morse arrives and comes over to Lewis for a situation report a little while later, the Sergeant can't stop himself, he blows up in Morse's face. It's only once Morse has gone upstairs, that he realizes what he's done and how it seems to have affected his boss. Morse had been speaking surprisingly softly, letting him vent, taking the wigging. Then one of the uniformed colleagues tells him of Morse's request for a drink and Lewis decides it might be a good opportunity to approach Morse again. He fetches the drink and walks up the stairs, not yet sure of his words. To his surprise Morse wants to hear nothing of his apology when he comes to the point. The air between them, however, seems to be clearer. _

_But Lewis isn't the only one who's anything but pleased with the Chief Inspector's behaviour. Chief Superintendent Strange shows up at Mrs. Baines's house to talk to Morse. Lewis feels sorry for his boss when Strange sends him off to get himself a coffee._

**A little while later in Morse's Jaguar  
**Lewis feels uncomfortable, he doesn't know what exactly Strange told his boss, but it doesn't take a genius to conclude it probably was a good telling off.  
"Sir, I..." he starts.  
"You what?" Morse asks in a resigned tone.  
"Look Sir, I told Max about the letter. I just had to tell someone. But, I never said a word to the Chief Super. I just thought you should know..."  
"I know, Lewis."  
The tone of Morse's voice tells Lewis that he means it. A very heavy weight is lifted off his shoulders.

_Maybe trust isn't broken all that easily after all, just put to the test. The trust between the detectives has been put to the test and it passed._


	5. Come A Little Bit Closer

_Morse and Lewis have become friends but they're not close in a physical sense. They keep their distance, don't even shake hands. Neither of them has thought about it, not yet..._

**Investigation of the murder of Yukio Lee  
Morse's living room, Morse sits on the floor among a selection of his LPs, Lewis is perched on a windowsill, looking slightly amused at his boss who shows no intention of dropping the case like they've been told to do  
**"Go on," Morse says, trying to convince his Sergeant of his idea. "It's not drugs, it's something more than that."  
Lewis just keeps staring at him with that hint of a smile on his face.  
Morse looks thoughtful. "There is just one thing nagging me..."  
"What would that be?" Lewis asks, wondering what other ideas Morse has up his sleeve.  
"Is the windowsill really more comfortable than my sofa? It's not the first time you chose to sit there."  
Lewis's smile turns into a grin. "You don't seem all that found of the sofa yourself, sitting on the floor."  
Morse laughs openly. "Right you are, Lewis, right you are." He starts stacking the LPs. "Get yourself a drink and we'll take our discussion over to the sofa."  
When Lewis returns with a glass of orange juice, something he hadn't expected to find in Morse's kitchen, the Chief Inspector has put the LPs away and moved onto the couch. Lewis drops down at his side and sips from his juice before speaking up.  
"You know, to continue the discussion, the sofa is more comfortable than the windowsill. How does it compare to the floor?" He looks at Morse with a challenging grin on his face.  
"Pretty good actually," Morse replies with an amused smile. The comfort level of his sofa is not what he had intended to discuss, but sitting there with Lewis at his side, he's happy enough to play along for a bit longer. Actually he's happy enough to develop the sudden urge to pat Lewis's knee amicably before steering the conversation back to their case.  
Lewis doesn't flinch from the touch.


	6. Not All Is Well In The City Of Oxford

_Morse often is grumpy. When things don't work out the way he thinks they should, he gets even more irritable. And who but Lewis is there to strike out at? It's happened before and Lewis has learned to tell when Morse actually is angry with him and when he just needs to let off steam. _

**Investigation of the murder of Sylvia Kane  
Morse's Jaguar, somewhere in Oxford  
**"Struck dumb, are you Lewis? Coded letter, money, violence... too much for you?" Morse pretty much spits out the insult.  
Lewis takes it quietly, then an idea how to cheer his Chief Inspector up again strikes. "Haven't you forgotten something, Sir?" He doesn't wait for Morse to respond. "Sex!"  
Morse obviously is surprised and Lewis grins happily. He knew he'd get Morse's attention with that.  
"Quite right, Lewis. Well done." The grin on Lewis's face grows even wider.

_But is Morse really the only one who needs cheering up? Is Lewis's life as perfect as Morse has come to think of it, well, his private life at least? The happy little family, a wife, two kids and a house...  
The same evening, out of the blue, they both reveal something about their lives to each other they had neither known nor expected._

**8:45pm at Morse's office  
**Morse has calmed down considerably since his outburst in the car. He's actually in a fairly mellow mood and remembers that, in contrast to him, there is someone waiting for his Sergeant to call it a day. "Go home, Lewis, see your wife, kiss your children."  
Lewis doesn't look as excited at the prospect as Morse had expected. He doesn't rush out the door, instead runs a hand through his hair as if to stall time. "And when I get home she's at the end of her tether, she's said to the kids 'You'll get a smack off you dad when he gets in'. I'm like the public executioner in my house."  
They walk down the corridor side by side and Morse takes up the implied offer of small talk. "My house? It belongs to both of you, doesn't it?"  
"Our house, then."  
They take a turn, not only in the corridor but also in their exchange. Something about the way Lewis spoke of his wife and house triggered a thought for Morse. "That's the trouble, isn't it? Men think they own everything. Property, families, the women in their lives..."  
"I don't own me wife." Lewis immediately is in the defence.  
"You talk as though you do." 'And how often have you called him your Sergeant, Morse,' the Chief Inspector asks himself.  
"That was just a slip of the tongue."  
"Ah."  
"It's easy for you."  
Morse isn't convinced it is. "Really?"  
"You know what I mean."  
"Because I live on my own you mean?"  
"Well... "  
"Have you ever lived alone, Lewis?"  
"Not really, no."  
"Then how can you tell?"  
"I was just thinking..."  
"I may not have a public execution in my house, as you put it, but some days it feels like I've been placed in solitary confinement." Where did that thought come from? Morse is surprised by his own words, as is Lewis who quietly looks at Morse while he holds open the door for him.  
When Lewis still watches Morse when he opens the door of the Jaguar, the Chief Inspector looks up one last time. "Forget it Lewis. Go home. I'll see you in the morning."  
"Yes, Sir," Lewis says automatically. "Good night," he adds.  
Morse gets into the Jaguar and starts the engine. Lewis walks to his own car but can't drag his eyes from the receding car until it's out of sight. A part of him would have gotten into the Jaguar without hesitation, had Morse said a word. Another part of him feels guilty for it, if he went home even later he wouldn't see his kids before morning.

_That night, Morse is acutely aware how empty and silent his house is. He listens to the ticking of the clock on his bedside table for a while, trying to will sleep to come but it refuses. Finally, long past midnight, he gets up and goes looking for something to read. He finds a book by John Wilmot Earl of Rochester on his shelf. The name had come up during the investigation and he had remembered buying the book years ago. He falls asleep on his sofa a while later, the book still in his hands. The poetry has soothed his mind._


	7. What's In A Poem

**Later the same day at a pub  
**Lewis reaches Morse's table and puts a pint down in front of his boss, reaching right in front of the Chief Inspector who doesn't seem to mind the intrusion into his personal space. His focus doesn't waver from the book he brought along. When Lewis is seated, he reads out a line to his sergeant, confirming to his junior partner that he is a hopeless romantic. "_'As Trees are by their Bark embrac'd, Love to my Soul doth cling._' Is that how you feel about your wife, Lewis?"  
"Not exactly," Lewis replies.  
"You disappoint me."  
Lewis lets it pass and sips his beer. Poetry is Morse's field, not his. But his boss is not yet done with his musing.  
"Is sex more trouble than it's worth? I keep wanting to find the answer," he says, seemingly aimed at no one in particular.  
Morse often surprises Lewis, but these two sentences stand out even more. He stares at the Chief Inspector's profile for a long moment before forcing his eyes back to his drink. With all the women Morse has been showing an interest in and at his age, the man surely must have had sex? His own trail of thought very nearly makes Lewis blush and he's glad Morse is staring off into the distance and doesn't notice his reaction.

_In the car, Morse is back to his usual self, but Lewis can't stop thinking about the things his boss has said these last two days. He hasn't seen him flirt with any woman lately but the only probable reason for Morse's behaviour he can come up with is that the older man is in love. Probably with someone who doesn't feel the same way about him._

_His home is Morse's second favourite place to go for thinking, his favourite place being the pub. But when the pubs are closed Morse asks Lewis to come over when he needs to think and feels he wants to discuss his ideas with his Sergeant. Lewis first accepted it as one of Morse's little quirks but by now he actually enjoys the time spent alone with the older man. They both seem more relaxed with each other when they're alone._

**Morse's house several hours later, the detectives are trying to figure out what brought two women out to the Woodstock Road on a rainy night.  
**"Kerb crawling," Lewis suggests.  
Morse looks at him in disbelief. "You want to kerb crawl, you don't head for the Woodstock Road, Lewis"  
A mischievous grin appears on the Sergeant's face. "Oh really, Sir?"  
Morse doesn't take the bait. He's been a policeman for long enough to know which areas are frequented by women working the oldest trade of all. And he's sure Lewis knows about these things for exactly the same reason, which is just why he is so surprised by his Sergeant bringing it up. Yet, somehow it all leads back to the one thing in their current case... "Sex is the problem, isn't it, Lewis?"  
Lewis gives him an odd look that Morse cannot quite place, so he decides to ignore it.

**The Radcliffe Hospital after the arrest of the murderer  
**The case is closed and Morse was right. Sex was the problem, sex between a married man and his mistress. His mind wanders back to poetry and he cites from memory while he and Lewis walk towards the exit.  
"_All this to Love, and Raptures due; Must we not pay a Debt to pleasure, too?_"  
Lewis, pulled from his own thoughts, looks puzzled "What?"  
"Rochester, Lewis," Morse explains absent-mindedly.  
"I think maybe it's time I bought you a drink," Lewis suggests, which immediately brings Morse back to the here and now.  
"Long overdue, Lewis."  
Lewis nods, a small smile playing on his face. He knows exactly how to get Morse's attention. And although, sometimes, he is fed up with buying pretty much every round, right now it seems a small price to pay to cheer his boss up again; he's been much too moody and glum lately.

When Lewis climbs out of Morse's Jaguar outside the pub, his eyes fall onto the back seat and upon a book lying there. It's the Rochester book Morse had been reading. He reaches back into the car and grabs it off the seat. Morse seems surprised but doesn't comment. They find a free table inside the pub and Lewis goes to get their drinks. They talk about the case for a while but it doesn't take Morse long to finish off his pint. "Another one?" He asks Lewis and gets up to head to the bar.  
"Ah, no. I'm fine." Lewis still has more than half of his drink left. While Morse waits for his turn at the bar, Lewis picks up the book and starts to browse. Morse's quotes have made him curious.  
When the Chief Inspector returns to their table, he finds his Sergeant engrossed in his reading. Morse sits down and watches Lewis for a moment while taking a hefty gulp of his second pint. "I hadn't expected Rochester to be to your liking, Lewis" he comments after a bit.  
Lewis finally looks up at the smiling face of his boss. "Nor had I, but this is quite nice."  
"What is it?"  
"This poem, 'The Discovery'."  
"I don't think I read it recently," Morse says, his eyes still fixed on Lewis.  
After a moment of hesitation, Lewis starts to read the poem to Morse.  
"_That faithfull Servant you disown,  
Wou'd in obedience keep his love unknown,  
But bright Ideas such as you inspire  
We can no more conceal, than not admire.  
My heart at home in my own Breast did dwell,  
Like Humble Hermit in a Peacefull Cell  
Unknown and undisturb'd it rested there,  
Stranger alike to hope, and to despair.  
Now Love with a tumultuous traine invades,  
The sacred quiet of those Hallow'd Shades,  
His fatall flames shine out to ev'ry Eye,  
Like Blazing Commets in a Winters Sky  
How can my passion merrit your offence  
That Challenges so little recompence,  
For I am one born only to admire,  
Too Humble e're to hope, scarce to desire  
A thing whose Bliss depends upon your will  
Who wou'd be proud you'd deign to use him Ill._"  
Morse is silent for a long moment after Lewis finishes, prompting the younger man to look up at him from the book. Their eyes meet and suddenly Lewis's mouth is very dry. He reaches for his glass.  
"Interesting choice," Morse finally says.  
"It probably sounds better when you read it," Lewis says, unable to meet the other man's eyes any longer.  
"I don't know, Lewis, somehow Rochester read in Geordie-style does have its charms."  
Lewis offers him a grin in return.  
"You can borrow the book if you like, your wife might enjoy your reading, too."  
Lewis looks at the book, back at Morse, and puts the book down on the table. "Ah, I don't think so. She's not really into poetry."  
"What a pity." Morse takes another gulp of his beer. "Why did you choose that poem, Lewis?"  
"Oh, I don't know. I just flipped through the pages and something about this," he hesitates and looks away again.  
Morse on the other hand looks at him expectantly. "Go on," he encourages Lewis. "Something about it what?"  
"I don't know. It spoke to me?" Lewis isn't really sure what exactly made him read on beyond the first few lines.  
But Morse's curiosity seems piqued now."What about it did?" He reaches for the book and looks for the poem. "_That faithfull Servant you disown, Wou'd in obedience keep his love unknown,_" he reads and looks up at Lewis again, who's actually blushing a little.  
Morse closes the book. "Go home, Lewis. You've kept me company for long enough. Now go and spend some time with your wife and kiddies."  
Lewis's head snaps back in Morse's direction, surprised at both the sudden change of topic and the hard tone the other man's voice has taken on. "She's not waiting. She's out with friends, kids are with the grandparents tonight." He blurts it out, for some reason desperate not to end the evening just now, he couldn't really say why he doesn't want to leave yet. He takes a deep breath and picks up his glass. "And I haven't finished me beer yet," he adds, trying to sound casual.  
Morse studies his Sergeant again until Lewis is tempted to hide behind his glass. The scrutiny with which Morse studies his face makes him nervous. But then Morse finishes off his own pint and gets up. "Well, I'm going home. If you need a lift..." Lewis is on his feet before the Chief Inspector can finish the sentence.

Morse drives Lewis back to his own car. When the younger man doesn't get out of the Jaguar immediately, Morse looks at him questioningly.  
"You didn't think I bought you that drink out of pity, did you? Because of what you said the other evening? About being lonely I mean."  
The older man considers the question for a moment, staring out into darkness through the windscreen. "No, I don't think you did, Lewis. But I think we should end this evening before it turns into pity."  
"It won't," Lewis says in a low voice, self-consciously looking down for a brief moment before looking back at Morse's profile. When the older man doesn't reply, Lewis reaches for the door handle. "Good night then, Sir." He opens the door and gets out. He's about to close the door when Morse does speak up.  
"Look, Lewis," he starts, then shakes his head. "Good night, Lewis. See you tomorrow."  
Lewis leans on the top of the Jaguar, looking into the car for another moment, then, when he realizes Morse won't say anything else, he straightens and closes the door. Morse pulls away and Lewis is left alone in the dark. Once again he finds himself following the Jaguar with his eyes until it vanishes around a corner. He unlocks his own car and slides in behind the wheel. Instead of starting the engine though, he takes out his notepad and writes down as much of the Rochester poem as he can remember.


	8. One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

_Time passes and neither man mentions their evening at the pub. Work keeps them busy and forces them to focus on their professional relationship. Lewis even forgets about the poem he was so eager to remember that evening.  
A case at one of the big manors around Oxford introduces them to the new pathologist, Dr. Grayling Russell. Lewis immediately connects with her while Morse's old fashioned views of women don't sit well with her at all. When Morse still struggles with her on their next case, Lewis decides to put in a good word or two for his boss with her. Morse seems to be suffering enough from a toothache, he doesn't need the doctor to pick on him on top of it. And he might be wrong, but Morse does seem interested in Dr. Russell, for once that'd be a choice Lewis would approve of. _

**Investigation of the murder of John Doe, mutilated body found in Thrupp  
The pathology lab, Lewis has come to get information from Dr. Russell  
**"You sound just like Morse," Dr. Russell suddenly tells Lewis during their exchange.  
Lewis grins, not sure whether the comment is meant as praise or a jibe, but as he thinks a great deal of Morse, he decides it's got to be a good thing. "I'll take that as a compliment," he replies.  
When their discussion comes to an end, Dr. Russell surprises him again, this time with her insight into his relationship with the Chief Inspector.  
"I'll go and see the boss," Lewis declares with a smile, thinking he might be able to wind Morse up with the news he's bringing from the pathology lab.  
Dr. Russell cocks her head and smiles at him. "You really like him, don't you," she says softly.  
"He's the best there is," Lewis says, pride in his voice.  
Dr. Russell just keeps on smiling. "Hm, if you say so..."

_Between Lewis and Morse, nothing seems to have changed, no one would guess anything has happened between them. They've simply returned to teasing each other whenever the opportunity arises._

**London, outdoors after a meeting with Mr. Collins  
**"Mrs. Burton?" Morse calls after a young woman and hurries after her. She turns and looks at him blankly. "Oh, I'm sorry," the Chief Inspector says when he realizes his mistake.  
Lewis casually strolls up to him "Nice try, Sir," he comments with a grin.  
"Oh shut up, Lewis," is the gruff reply which fails to wipe the grin off Lewis's face. "It's opening time," Morse declares after checking his watch.  
"And alcohol free lager time for me, I suppose," Lewis adds and falls into step with his boss. There are some things he can rely on when it comes to Morse. The Chief Inspector's love for beer is one of them.

_A day later, Morse has another appointment with his dentist. Upon his return to the police headquarters, Lewis informs him that Superintendent Strange wants a word with him. _

**Police headquarters, Morse comes down the stairs from the meeting, Lewis happens to be at the coffee vendor at the bottom  
**"Coffee, Sir?" Lewis asks when he spots his boss.  
"Extra sugar," Morse says, suppressing a sigh.  
"Didn't last long, did it, Sir? Your self-denial." Lewis grins and hands a cup of coffee to Morse who gives him a reproachful look. "I know, you need the energy," Lewis adds, but Morse isn't up for any banter.  
"Lewis, I've already had a bad time from both the dentist and the Chief Superintendent."  
"Sorry, Sir," Lewis says, though he's more sorry that Morse had a bad day in the first place than he is for his failed attempt to cheer him up.

_The two detectives teasing each other is one thing; however, when others try to join in, they are quick to close the ranks._

**The pathology lab, Morse sits on a chair, hunched over, Lewis leans on a table next to him, Dr. Russell goes about her business a bit further into the room  
**Lewis eyes Morse worryingly. His boss looks pretty miserable. He knows Morse has a problem with looking at corpses but this reaction seems a bit strong even for Morse's standards. He leans down. "Cup of tea, Sir? Coffee?" He offers.  
Morse only shakes his head, miserably.  
"Medicinal brandy?" Dr. Russell suggests from across the room, obviously not worried at all. "Just take a few deep breaths. I'm sure it's just the formaldehyde."  
Morse and Lewis look at each other, neither man approving of the remark, yet Morse pulls himself together a bit more. "What were you saying, Doctor?"

_A while later, Lewis talks to Dr. Russell again, still trying to make her see that Morse is a good man. He's not sure whether he can convince her, but his words must have left some impression with her because Dr. Russell shows up at their office when the case is closed and invites Morse out. Lewis can't help but grin. Who'd have thought he'd make a good match maker? He quickly hides his grin when Morse turns to look at him, though._

_Yet, Morse's date doesn't work out well at all due to the arrival of an old friend of Dr. Russell's called Sam. A friend she cannot tear her eyes away from and who has the nerve to actually take up Morse's offer of a drink. The offer that Morse had meant as a rhetorical question, a polite gesture, not a factual offer to buy a total stranger a drink. The Chief Inspector looks at the two smiling and hugging friends for a moment and decides to leave. Let Sam get his own drink if he wants one._

_Morse drives home and drowns his sorrow in scotch. Some time late that evening, he picks up the phone and dials Lewis's number, only to hang up without a word when he hears Lewis's voice. He buries his face in his hands, then straightens and takes a deep breath. "Don't be daft, Morse," he says to himself and walks over to his record player to restart the recording of Maria Callas he's been listening to since he arrived home. It's one of the very few pieces of music he's played in his car that Lewis liked, even though his Sergeant mistook it for a recording of Cats. The memory makes him smile a little, but it's a sad smile. He pours himself another scotch and puts his legs up on the sofa._


	9. Who Cares? I Do

_A new case brings a reunion with an old friend for Morse. An old friend who ends up dead, an incident that doesn't improve his mood. And as if one loss wasn't bad enough, he's also bound to lose his trusty Sergeant._

**Investigation of the death of Anythony Donn  
Arnold College after the body has been discovered  
**"Do you want to start taking statements?" Morse asks Lewis in passing, fully expecting to hear his Sergeant say 'yes, Sir'.  
"What, now?" Lewis says instead, making Morse stop and turn to look at the younger man.  
"Don't tell me," he says, sighing a little. "You're baby-sitting."  
"No. I'm on leave, Sir. From half an hour ago."  
"Leave?"  
"Just a week, Sir. That's all." Once again it took Morse just one word to make Lewis feel like he's done something wrong, disappointed his boss. Which, he tells himself, is ridiculous.  
"Oh. Did I know about this?" Morse actually seems puzzled.  
Lewis, on the other hand, can't believe what he's hearing. "You signed the form!"  
Morse seems even more surprised. "Did I?" He takes a step closer, struggling for words. "Look, it's not very convenient, Lewis. What are you doing anyway, going to Butlins?"  
"No, sir. Actually, I've got the outside of the house to paint and some gutters to fix and what have you."  
Morse still doesn't want to accept that Lewis wants to leave him alone, now, at the start of an enquiry. An enquiry that hits a bit too close to home for comfort. "I thought you'd had your leave. You're always on leave!"  
Now Lewis is on the verge of rolling his eyes at his boss in annoyance. What is it with Morse today? He's been on leave many times over the years and his boss never acted up like this. He does his best not to lose his patience. "No. Ten days at Christmas, a couple of days over the Easter holidays and now this."  
"Yes... yes. All right, Lewis," Morse finally concedes, looking fairly miserable.

_When Morse later comes up with the idea to have Lewis go undercover and pays his Sergeant a visit at home, Lewis isn't very excited about the assignment, but in the end he accepts.  
Still, Morse feels worse when he leaves Lewis's place. For the first time he has met his Sergeant's family, has been welcomed by Mrs. Lewis and offered tea, has watched Lewis play cricket with his son. He feels like a total fool for even thinking about wasting Lewis's time with visits to the pub or invitations to his house. It needs to end, Morse tells himself determinedly._

_And yet, the day a second man has died, he finds himself in Lewis's company in his living room late at night. Due to Lewis's undercover mission, there just wasn't time to talk properly before, except from their brief encounter in the gents at the cricket pitch. This time, however, Morse keeps his distance, sits in a chair at his desk, his back turned towards Lewis, only looking at his Sergeant over his shoulder. It's easier that way. Lewis either doesn't realize it or doesn't care. Either way is fine with Morse, or so he tells himself. _

_Lewis is bound to go on tour with the cricket team for a week and is pleasantly surprised when Morse sees him and the team off at the port. But in the end, the tour never happens and Lewis's true identity is revealed when the pieces of their case finally fall into place. _

_After they've made their arrests, Morse and Lewis look around Mrs. Donn's London flat one last time. Lewis, thorough as ever, listens to the messages on her answering machine. When Morse hears his own voice, his private message he left for Mrs. Donn, he gets up to leave, embarrassed by his own behaviour. What in the world possessed him to flirt with the widow whose husband's death he'd been investigating at the time? _

**Mrs. Donn's flat, London  
**"Sir?" Lewis says quietly, making Morse turn. He looks at the tape from the answering machine that Lewis is offering him, the tape he had expected Lewis to file as evidence. "Let's go home then, eh?" The younger man asks quietly.  
Morse accepts the tape from Lewis without meeting his eyes for more than a second. "Yeah."  
"Any idea what time it is?" Lewis wonders, prompting Morse to look up at him hopefully.  
"Why? Are you up for a pint?"  
"Well, actually, I was hoping that we might be in time to see the end of the test match."  
It's obviously not what Morse had hoped for. "Yes, of course, Lewis. I mean... where could we avoid it?"  
They head out the door to a waiting patrol car which takes them to the station. They spend the drive in silence; it's only when they're seated on the train that will take them back to Oxford, that Lewis makes another attempt at conversation. "We could find a pub that shows the match," he suggests.  
"Yes, I suppose so," Morse says absent mindedly, his view not wavering from the window.  
Lewis decides it's once again time for an attempt to cheer his boss up. "So, did you miss me, then?"  
"Hm?" Morse turns his head to look at him while his mind catches up with what his Sergeant just said. "Well, working with Hilaire does make your talents shine brighter, Lewis."  
Lewis grins happily. "I'll be on leave for another two days, though. You'll have to put up with him a little longer."  
"Leave? I thought we'd agreed you don't need leave."  
"No, that was for the undercover mission. And that's over. You very loudly blew my cover."  
"You must have paperwork to do, surely?"  
"I can just as well do that on Monday, can't I?" Lewis is still grinning happily.  
Morse sighs overly dramatically. "All right, Lewis. You can watch the test match, I'll even buy you a drink, but you return to regular duty tomorrow."  
"Ah, I don't know, Sir, two days with the wife and kids sound pretty good. And it's the weekend after all."  
Morse looks away for a moment. "Don't push your luck, Lewis," he says and when he looks back at Lewis, there's a challenge in his eyes.  
Lewis cocks his head and his grin fades a little. "It is the weekend. So unless we get a new case..."  
"Yes, all right. You can do your paperwork on Monday, but if we do get a new case, you're back on duty."  
"And we're watching the match. And you buy me a drink."  
Morse narrows his eyes for a moment but then can't help smiling. He shakes his head. "You drive a hard bargain, Lewis. But I suppose I can live with this deal."  
Lewis smiles happily.

_Later that evening, Morse wonders what happened to his resolution to stop wasting Lewis's time, to make sure his Sergeant got to see more of his family. All thrown to the wind due to a grin and a silly remark by Lewis._


	10. Times Are Changing

_Lewis does get his free weekend and the following week starts quietly for the two detectives. Wednesday is the day of the annual police ball and Morse is expected to attend. While he watches Dr. Russell dance with a friend, not Sam, he notices, his colleague Cyril Dewar joins him and bores him with his idea of small talk until Dr. Russell pulls Morse onto the dance floor. Morse's evening out, however, is cut short by the arrival of Lewis._

**Investigation of the murder of Michael Gifford  
Morse's Jaguar, on the way to the Westgate car park  
**"The report came in 20 minutes ago, Sir. Some bloke phoned to say it would interest the police to go to bay 5B of the Westgate car park and take a look in the BMW there. That's all," Lewis explains while they're under way.  
"I hope it's been verified. I wouldn't want my night out ruined by a hoax," Morse replies in his usual grumpy tone.  
"Yeah, it's been confirmed already, Sir. A shame. You seemed to be having a good time." Lewis really had been happy for his boss when he had seen him dancing with Dr. Russell. Morse has never told him what the story was behind the phone call to Mrs. Donn, but he suspects it was nothing he'd approve of. Dr. Russell though...  
"I'd been rescued from Cyril Dewar," Morse says as if it explains why he had seemed to be enjoying himself.  
"As bad as working with Hilaire, was it, Sir?" Lewis can't help it, he's come to enjoy teasing Morse way too much to let a chance pass by.  
"Worse, Lewis. Much worse."

_The next morning, Morse is woken by a phone call from the police headquarters; it's the desk sergeant, informing him that Lewis has been taken to the hospital. Morse is fully awake the moment the words 'Lewis' and 'hospital' register on his mind. Half an hour later, he's at the Radcliffe and has been shown to his Sergeant._

**An examination room at the Radcliffe Hospital  
**"How are you feeling now, Lewis?" Morse asks, managing to keep the relief of finding Lewis looking a bit beat but otherwise well out of his voice.  
"Oh, a bit groggy, Sir, but not bad. I really appreciate you coming down to the hospital."  
"Well, it saves time, doesn't it? If you get the OK, we can press on with the job." He doesn't make eye contact with Lewis, afraid it would give away his true feelings. Only once he feels he's got himself under control, does he turn to face the younger man sitting at the table, cradling his head in his hands. "Anyway, you're a bit of a record-breaker now. Two cracked heads in... how many weeks?"  
Lewis rolls his eyes, banter is not exactly what he feels like just now. "Yeah. All right, Sir."  
"You must have a skull like an anvil." 'And I'm very glad you do,' Morse adds in his thoughts.  
"It wasn't on the same spot," Lewis explains, pointing to different spots on his head, as if that made the two attacks seem less severe. "First knock was here, last night's was there."  
Morse decides it's best to just stick to the facts, hoping that it will put an end to his worrying. "And you saw some sort of a van driving off?"  
"Yeah, some sort of van. Could have been..."  
"Could have been...?"  
Lewis hates it when Morse does that, repeat what he said as if it was particularly stupid. "Well, I was passing out at the time, Sir..."

_They don't have to wait long for Lewis to get the OK from his doctor to leave and return to duty. Morse, longing for a pint after the shock the morning has brought, drives them to a pub._

Lewis has noticed that Morse really is worried and is touched. But as Morse is doing his best to hide it, Lewis doesn't bring it up. Instead, he focuses on the calender of their latest victim.  
Morse, however, suddenly seems interested in something else. "When did you switch to that stuff, Lewis? Mineral water? Are you developing yuppie aspirations?"  
Lewis snorts at the idea. "You can't have a yuppie policeman, can you? No, the doctor gave us painkillers."  
"I hope they don't dull your wits."  
Lewis chuckles and washes one of the pills down with his mineral water.  
When they get up to leave, each of them to follow up a different line of enquiry, Morse is quite convinced that Lewis is indeed well. But he's not yet able to let it go. "You will be all right on your own, won't you, Lewis?" He asks, grinning slightly, trying to hide his worry behind it.  
Lewis just grins at him in return. He's aware that it's Morse's way of showing he cares and it makes Lewis happy to see that Morse does care about him. He doesn't seem to care for a lot of people, and out of those few, most seem to be women.

_The next day, Morse and Lewis are going for a walk. They discuss the entries in Gifford's calender again, until Morse can't hide his relief at Lewis's unbowed dedication to the job any longer. And the fact that the younger man doesn't seem to suffer from any after-effects from the blow to his head, which, he tries to convince himself, is only important as it aids Lewis's work. _

**Outdoors on a footpath in Oxford  
**Smiling, Morse claps a hand on Lewis's far shoulder, letting it rest there. "Lewis, how's the head?"  
Lewis smiles broadly at him. "I thought you'd never ask!"  
He doesn't resist when Morse steers him in the direction of the nearest pub.  
"No more yuppie drinks, then?"  
Lewis grins. "Orange juice will be just fine, Sir."

_The night after they close the case, Morse is going to the opera with Dr. Russell. It's their first date and it very nearly wouldn't have happened. What Morse hadn't expected, though, is the fact that it also is their last date._

**Morse's office, the following morning  
**"Morning, Sir," Lewis says cheerfully when Morse enters the room, hands shoved into the pockets of his coat.  
"Morning, Lewis," Morse grumbles, drops the newspaper he had tucked under his arm onto his desk, hangs up his coat and sits down without another word.  
Lewis knows mornings like these. Morse will talk when he's ready. Until then, Lewis gets on with his paperwork.  
"You might want to say good bye to your friend Dr. Russell before it's too late, Lewis," Morse says out of the blue a while later without looking up from his crossword.  
"Say good bye? Is she going on holiday?" Lewis turns to look at his boss questioningly.  
"Not exactly. She's leaving, Lewis. Took up a job closer to 'Sam'." Morse looks up at him for a moment, then returns his eyes to his newspaper.  
"Who's Sam?"  
"Does it matter?"  
"Don't know, does it?"  
"No, Lewis, it doesn't."  
"Well, how do you know?"  
Morse lets the newspaper drop onto his desk. "How do I know what, Lewis?"  
"That she's leaving. She hasn't told me."  
"Well, she told me. Last night when I drove her home from the opera."  
"Oh, so you found the tickets! And you went with Dr. Russell."  
"Who did you think I went with? The Chief Super?" Morse snaps.  
"Sorry, Sir."

_Morse has long since called it a day, when Lewis is still at his desk. He's looking through his notepad, checking if there's anything in it he might still need. It's full and he's already started a new one and isn't keen on carrying around both. He skims through his entries and comes across the page on which he scrawled the Rochester poem, at least the bits he could recall. He reads the lines again and suddenly the notepad drops from his hands. "Bloody hell," he mutters, astonished. He stares at the pad lying on his desk for a long minute before he snatches it back up, grabs his coat and rushes out the door._


	11. Venturing Into Uncharted Terrain

**A little later at Morse's house  
**Lewis rings Morse's door bell, nervously shifting from one foot to the other. It seems to take ages for Morse to open the door. When he does, he seems surprised to find Lewis on his doorstep.  
"Lewis? Don't tell me there's been another murder."  
"No, Sir, nothing like that."  
"Then what?"  
"I... I'd like to take a look at your book."  
Morse looks at him, baffled. "My book."  
Lewis offers him a smile.  
"You've come out here to look at one of my books."  
"Yes, Sir. The Rochester."  
The Chief Inspector finally steps aside to let Lewis enter. "Why the urgent interest in poetry?"  
Lewis licks his lips before answering. "I..." He digs around in his pocket and produces his notepad. "I only wrote bits of the poem down the other evening, I was hoping you'd be able to fill in the blanks."  
Morse shakes his head, trying to make sense of Lewis's behaviour. "Changed your mind about Mrs. Lewis and poetry, have you, Lewis?" He walks into the living room and looks for the book on his shelf.  
Lewis is following closely behind. "Not exactly."  
When Morse turns around, the book in hand, he finds Lewis has sat down on his sofa. He walks over to the younger man and holds out the book to him, but Lewis doesn't reach for it.  
"I was hoping you'd read it to me. I'd like to hear how it's supposed to sound."  
Morse eyes him suspiciously. "You what?"  
"Please?" Lewis asks, his eyes glued to the book in Morse's hands. He can't quite make himself look Morse in the eye, he's too nervous, not sure if this is what he really wants to do. But then Morse sits down next to him, opens the book and starts leafing through the pages.  
"The Discovery, if I remember correctly..."  
"Yeah, that's the one."  
Again, Morse hesitates, but Lewis seems so keen on him reading the poem that he doesn't have the heart to refuse. So he starts reading it out loud. When he finishes and looks up from the book, he finds that Lewis has closed his eyes.  
"Are you all right, Lewis?"  
Lewis opens his eyes again and smiles at him. "Couldn't be better, Sir." And before he can chicken out, he leans over and kisses the surprised Chief Inspector. It's just a light brush of lips against lips, but it's enough for Lewis to be sure that, yes, this is exactly what he wants to do.  
He pulls back and looks at Morse. The older man seems shocked and it takes him a moment to find his speech. "Why did you do that?"  
Lewis gives him a smug look. "Because I wanted to."  
Morse gets up and turns his back to Lewis. "You're a married man, Lewis. You've got a family relying on you."  
"I know. That's why it took me so long..." Now Lewis is struggling to find the right words. "Why it took me so long to figure out they're not the only ones I love," he explains, his voice barely more than a whisper.  
But Morse understands him and slowly turns around. "Lewis, I'm not in the mood for bad jokes."  
Lewis looks hurt. "But... the poem. When I read it to you, you asked why I was so interested in it. I didn't realise it then, but it's because it's about you and me."  
When Morse doesn't comment, he continues. "You asked because you knew it back then, didn't you? You knew it long before me, but you didn't say anything. But... the way you looked at me. And on the train, offering me deals so I'd come back on duty, come back to you, right? And your concern when I got bumped over the head, you wouldn't have had to come down to the hospital, but you needed to, didn't you?"  
He gets up and walks over to where Morse is standing. "This isn't just me, is it?"  
Morse's voice sounds hoarse when he finally speaks. "No, it's not just you. But you're still a very married man."  
"I don't intend to change that. I love Val. And the kids." He pauses and looks right into Morse's eyes. "But I also want to be with you. I think I've wanted to for a while, only I didn't quite figure it that out until today."  
"So, now what?"  
"I don't know," Lewis has to admit.  
Morse finally reaches out a hand to touch Lewis's cheek. "You're right, I've known for a while. I've tried to ignore it, and it's hard to ignore those feelings when I see you most days. But, you're married, I'm your superior... how do you think this should work?" He lets his hand drop again. "As much as I'd like to think this was possible, it just isn't, Lewis."  
"We don't need to tell anyone," Lewis says. "At work everyone knows we're quite close-knit, so no one would notice, and, though she complains about it, Val is used to my odd hours. She blames you for them anyway."  
Morse's expression is soft when he continues. "You don't want to risk your marriage for a grumpy old man, Lewis. Go home."  
"No." Lewis takes a deep breath. "I know it's not really fair on Val, but I feel like I've had a relationship with you for long already, only I wasn't aware of it."  
This actually makes Morse chuckle. "If you call our partnership a relationship, Lewis, I worry about the state of your marriage."  
Lewis rolls his eyes at him. "I'm just saying. I've loved you all this time and I didn't realise. But we spend so much time together anyway. I just... look at it differently now." He looks down. "Unless this isn't enough for you, because I'm not going to leave Val."  
"I wouldn't want you to. I've been to your house, I've seen your family. Believe me, Lewis, I would never want to be responsible for destroying your marriage."  
Lewis looks back up into Morse's blue eyes. "So?" He asks.  
"You're sure about this?"  
"Yeah. You?"  
"I'm getting there."  
"Good enough," Lewis decides and leans in for a real kiss.  
Morse's hesitation wanes quickly and his hands come up to cup Lewis's face. When Lewis finally pulls away, he takes Morse's hands in his and pulls him along to the sofa where they resume their kisses.  
Kissing and holding each other is all they do this evening until Lewis finally pulls away with a sigh after checking his watch. "I've got to go home."  
The longing is obvious on Morse's face but he still nods. "I suppose so, yes."  
Lewis steals another kiss from the older man's lips before he gets up.  
"I'm sorry. I'd love to stay, but I promised Val..."  
Morse shakes his head. "Don't. Don't be sorry. It's all right. I'll see you tomorrow."  
"You really don't mind, Sir?"  
"I don't. This is more than I ever expected to get. And you might want to drop the sir when we're alone."  
"And call you what instead?"  
Morse shrugs. "Morse?" He gets up, too and they walk to his front door.  
Lewis tries it in his mind and shakes his head. "No, that feels wrong. But I'll think about what I might call you instead."  
"Robbie?"  
Lewis smiles at hearing his first name. "Yeah?"  
"Good night."  
Lewis wraps his arms around Morse one last time for a long hug before he opens the door. "Good night, Sir."


	12. Frustration

_Kisses and hugs need to be put on hold when a new case keeps Morse and Lewis on their toes. All they manage is a smile when no one's looking or a brush of hands when they walk just a little bit closer together than before and it's not enough to keep their spirits up. No matter where they look or who they talk to about their case, there seem to be invisible walls they cannot break down blocking their path. To make matters worse, one of the few people who could have provided them with some insight vanishes from under their noses, taking a possibly vital piece of evidence with him. Morse is on the verge of giving up. Lewis, though, isn't willing to just yet._

**Investigation of the death of Dr. Julian Dear  
A pub at the canal, Lewis and Morse sit hunched over their drinks at an open window, jackets off, sleeves rolled up  
**If the circumstances were better, Morse might enjoy this lunchtime spent with Lewis at a pub on a nice summer's day. But the circumstances aren't better and he stares glumly into his pint, or what's left of it. It's one of those days where his glass seems to be half empty, not half full.  
"Now tell me how far you got looking into the college investments," he prompts Lewis.  
The Sergeant looks up at him. "Oh, nothing doing. I don't have the rank."  
Morse hadn't really expected Lewis to get far so the answer doesn't come as a surprise to him. "Don't you, Lewis?" Their eyes meet across the short distance.  
"I didn't go to Oxford, see?" Lewis states, obviously as annoyed by not getting anywhere as Morse is himself.  
"Well, I don't have the rank, either. Why don't you ask Mr. Rennie? Perhaps he has the rank." He likes the Chief Super subbing for Strange no better than the pompous college people who refuse to tell him anything.  
Lewis ignores the scathing remark. "I think there's a tie-up with McGovern. He's a system's analyst, out of work. The DHSS have been pushing him. Well, there's hundreds of jobs in his field. He has a doctor's note for his nerves, though. And his last job was with Soilscan in Gloucester."  
Morse looks up at hearing the company name. "Soilscan?"  
"Yeah, agricultural chemicals and that. Fertilisers."  
"A subsidiary of CORBI International."  
"Yeah. That's right."  
The Chief Inspector pulls a face, annoyed. "There, isn't it, Lewis?"  
"Hm?" Lewis looks at him questioningly while sipping from his St. Clement's.  
"Beaufort is involved with the parent company. It's right there, any we can't get at it. So, why bother to try? I mean, everyone's happy." The look on Morse's face says he's the exception to that rule. "No one's been murdered. What was I doing running through a hospital after a hired heavy? Waste of effort."  
Lewis studies his face. "And you reckon Normington's got the tape? What do you think he'll do with it?"  
Something inside Morse snaps and sarcasm is all he can come up with any more. "Textual analyses for his American students, I expect."  
Lewis does his best to stay calm and focus on the job, not to let Morse's bad mood rub off on him. "I could do a bit of work on Soilscan. Have another look at the stuff from the fire."  
Morse shoves his now empty glass in Lewis's direction. "Have another look at my glass first."  
Lewis looks at the glass and there's a soft note to his voice when he speaks up again. "It's a bit early for a second, isn't it, Sir?"  
Morse glares at his Sergeant, as if to dare him to disregard his request. But Lewis has been on the receiving end of Morse's glares too often by now to be affected by them, so he just picks up where Morse interrupted him. "We still haven't fathomed the umbrella. Nor the pool of vomit."  
When glaring doesn't work, the next thing Mores does, out of habit, is get loud. "What a good idea, Lewis. The sicked-up quiche. Do fathom that. Why don't you?"  
Lewis looks at him for another moment, then gets up. "I'll see you later, then, Sir," he says and picks up his jacket from the back of his chair. He doesn't turn back once and Morse is left staring after him, already regretting snapping at Lewis the way he did, but too proud to get up and follow him.

**Morse's house, late afternoon  
**Lewis pulls up outside his boss's house and listens to the music he can hear through the open window. He doesn't know what it is, but it sounds as frustrated as Morse seemed earlier on. He takes a deep breath, walks up to the front door and rings the bell. Morse opens after his third ring. He doesn't say a word but steps aside to let his junior partner enter.  
When the door is closed behind him, Lewis takes a long look at Morse. "Calmed down a bit?"  
Morse nods.  
"Good." He hesitates a moment, then closes the distance to the older man and pulls him in for a kiss.  
Morse wraps his arms around him and holds him close for a long moment. "Thank you. I think I needed that," he says, meeting Lewis's eyes.  
Lewis grins at him. "You should have said, I'd gladly have supplied you with it before. Especially if it had spared me your sarcasm."  
Morse looks at him guiltily. "It wasn't your fault."  
"I know." And he knows it's the closest thing to an apology he's likely to get, but it's enough. "Want to see what I found when I looked through the stuff from the fire again?"  
"Ashes?" Morse suggests and Lewis rolls his eyes at him. "Can we go in there? More light." He points to Morse's living room.  
"Yeah. Sure. Come on through. So, what exciting things did you find?"

_Their case is still far from closed, even though, as always when they put their heads together, they come up with new ideas. Ideas that revive Morse's hope and determination to crack this case. So, in the long run, once again it's them being so different, sparking new ideas in each other, that enables them to close their case._


	13. Living With A Secret

_It's the morning after a cosy evening the two Detectives spent together at Morse's place. To celebrate the successful closure of another case, Morse had treated his younger lover to dinner. The evening had, as had a couple before, been ended abruptly by a look at the clock that prompted Lewis to say his good bye and rush home to his family. And, as always, Morse had let him go without complaint. But it's slowly starting to eat at the Chief Inspector that their time together is so limited. He enjoys holding the younger man in his arms and feels even lonelier than he did before he had a lover when Lewis is gone. He's taken up sleeping with a pillow in his arms. It can't make up for the lack of Lewis, but it's better than nothing. Still, he's not happy with the situation and feels grumpy after getting up._

**Investigation of the murder of Trevor Radford  
Morse's house, early morning, Morse is in his kitchen when the doorbell rings  
**Slowly, Morse walks to the door, still in his bathrobe. When he opens the door, a very cheerful Lewis is grinning at him. Morse looks at him blankly.  
"You'll never believe this," Lewis says, not bothering with a greeting. "We have to visit a brewery." He takes in the sight before him and adds. "Can I wait for you inside, Sir?"  
Morse steps aside and Lewis smiles as he closes the door behind himself.  
"You look good in blue," he tells Morse. "Very good." He leans forward and places a sweet kiss on his lover's lips. "Good morning, Em."  
"You're not trying to wind me up with that brewery story, are you? And – M.?"  
"Nope, reported body at the Radford brewery. It's been confirmed already. And yes, Em. I had promised I'd think about what to call you."  
Morse finally puts down the glass he'd been carrying around. "Why M.?"  
"It's your initials, E-M. I think it sounds better than Morse, that's too formal for the occasion."  
"Em," Morse repeats to himself, then shrugs. "I suppose I can get used to that. And it's unique, no one has ever called me that before."  
"Yeah, I thought Pagan wouldn't go down too well."  
"Very thoughtful of you, thank you." He looks himself down. "I'd better get dressed, then."  
"Probably, though I like your current outfit." Lewis steals another kiss from Morse's lips to prove it.  
Morse slightly frowns at him for it but it's obvious his heart isn't in it. "I suppose you've already had breakfast? Otherwise, you know your way around my place."  
Lewis wiggles his eyebrows at him and smiles. "I have yet to see what's up there, you must be hiding something upstairs that you don't want me to see."  
"If you ever get the chance to stay long enough, I'll let you in on the secret," Morse promises and heads upstairs to change.

_They're very careful in public not to let their changed relationship show. Which is why Morse sometimes slightly rebuffs Lewis with a dumb excuse when his junior partner gets a little too close than seems right for work-partners._

**Outside a pub at the canal, Morse and Lewis are sitting opposite each other at a table, Lewis is reading a transcript of a letter they found in the victim's office  
**"Oh, give it to me, Lewis," Morse says and snatches the paper out of Lewis's hands. Lewis, however, curious himself what the letter says, gets up and walks over to Morse's side of the table, leaning in a bit closer than work-partners should. He raises his glass to his lips and slowly sips from it.  
"_...far too high_," Morse picks up reading where Lewis had been forced to let off. "_I realise that land values have increased dramatically over the last few years, but even taking this into account, I cannot agree._" He becomes very aware of how close Lewis is standing. He wouldn't mind, but... "Don't slurp in my ear, Lewis," he reprimands the younger man and Lewis dutifully straightens but fails to hide his grin.  
Morse continues to read and they discuss the contents of the letter while they finish their drinks. Lewis manages to keep his distance until they're back in the car, where he casually reaches over to Morse and lays his hand on the other man's thigh. Morse looks at him for a moment, then starts the car. "Watch out for buses and lorries."  
"Right," Lewis replies, smiling happily. Morse manages to avoid passing any high vehicles, though, and Lewis's hand stays put for nearly the whole drive.


	14. Defining Boundaries

_Lewis and Morse haven't had a much of a chance to talk about their new found love and what it'll mean for them. Mostly, to keep it a secret, they've agreed to keep things the way they were before as much as possible. But what is it, that the two men expect from their relationship?_

**Morse's driveway on a sunny morning, La Traviata is blaring from the windows and Morse is taking care of his Jaguar, refilling the cooling water and changing the wheels  
**Lewis arrives and has to speak up to make himself heard over the loud music. "Morning, Sir!"  
Morse looks up at him but keeps tinkering with his car. "Morning, Lewis. Don't they have telephones in your neighbourhood?"  
"I did ring, Sir. Several times!"  
"Can't hear the damn thing out here anyway," Morse mutters and Lewis has to agree, the music's much too loud to hear anything.  
"There's been another murder."  
"I hope it's that landlord from the Cock and Bullfinch. Teach him to keep his beer properly." He looks up to see Lewis turn his eyes upwards for a moment, then focus back on him. Morse decides he probably should take murder a bit more seriously. "The brewery?" He asks.  
"No, Sir."  
"Not our problem, then." He goes to fetch the one wheel he hasn't yet put back on.  
"I'm afraid it is, Sir."  
"That's official, is it?" He knows the tone of Lewis's voice.  
"Yeah. The Chief Super thinks there could be a connection with the brewery murders, so he's giving us first crack at it."  
Morse leans the wheel against the Jaguar and straightens. "That's very generous of him." He thinks for a short moment. "Put that wheel on, will you, Lewis? I'm just gonna wash my hands..." He doesn't wait for a reply and heads inside, leaving Lewis standing outside, looking after his boss, aghast.

When Morse returns a few minutes later, Lewis has put the wheel on, though.  
"Ah. We're ready to go, I see."  
"No, we're not."  
Morse blankly looks at him. "Not?"  
"Well, I'm going to have to wash my hands now, too. Playing car mechanic for you. Why did you have it off in the first place?"  
"Swapping them around helps them wear down more equally."  
Lewis rolls his eyes at his boss and squeezes past Morse through the door.

Once they're on their way to the new scene of the crime, though, Lewis picks the topic up again.  
"What was that about?"  
"What?" Morse glances at him for a brief moment.  
"I'm your Sergeant, not your mechanic. Why do I need to put the wheels back on your car?"  
"Wheel, Lewis. It was just one."  
"Never mind. Why? I'm not your slave to command around."  
Morse thinks for a moment before replying. "_A thing whose Bliss depends upon your will; Who wou'd be proud you'd deign to use him Ill._"  
Lewis looks dumbfounded. "What?"  
"It's from the Rochester poem you identified as being 'about us'."  
Lewis groans. "I didn't mean it that literally."  
"Didn't you, Lewis? Sometimes you take things very literally. How am I to tell when you do and when you don't?"  
"Use your common sense?"  
"Would it make things better if I said 'Thank you'?"  
"Yeah, a bit. But you could have asked in the first place, not commanded me around."  
"Yes, I suppose I could have done so. If we hadn't been in public. Didn't we agree to keep things the way they were before when we're in public?"  
"Is that going to be your excuse now every time you need an outlet for your bad mood? I'm sure no one would mind if you'd treat me a bit more kindly."  
"This has nothing to do with my mood. We have work to do and you putting the wheel on while I cleaned myself up sped things up."  
Lewis sighs. "It's no use. You'll always find an excuse."  
"The privilege of seniority, Lewis."  
Lewis shakes his head and stares out the side window until Morse's hand suddenly gives his own a squeeze.  
"Look, Robbie, I've been alone for a long time. I'm too set in my old ways to change easily. Give me time, will you?"  
Lewis looks over at Morse's profile and turns his hand in Morse's so he can squeeze it back. "If you promise to at least try."  
"I promise."


	15. Uncovering A Secret

_They don't get to see much of each other for the rest of the day after a quick tour of the crime scene, as Lewis is sent off to dig through old papers at the County Records Office. Morse is hoping his Sergeant will turn up with something by afternoon, but, come evening, he's still alone at the office and decides to call it a day. At home, he puts on La Traviata again, makes himself more comfortable and lies down on his sofa - to think._

**Late evening at Morse's house, it's dark and Morse has fallen asleep on the sofa  
**Lewis rings his boss's doorbell, but there's no answer. It doesn't surprise him all that much, he can easily hear the loud music outside though the windows are shut this time. He walks around to Morse's living room window. The music thankfully stops and as he peeks inside, he can just about make out Morse's head on the arm rest of the sofa. He sighs, not really surprised that, while he's been busy, Morse has made himself comfortable. He taps the window with his car keys several times but to no effect. "Sir?" He shouts and finally the head stirs and turns to look in his direction, then away again, checking the time.  
"Lewis... Where have you been all day?" Morse finally sits up.  
Lewis is tempted to roll his eyes but Morse isn't looking in his direction so why bother? "You know exactly where I've been, Sir. The County Records Office."  
Morse pushes himself up and walks in the direction of the front door. Lewis walks back there, too. Morse still looks sleepy when he opens the door, a look that nearly melts Lewis's heart.  
"What took so long?" Morse asks, drowsily looking at his Sergeant.  
"Long? You should have seen the papers. They've got half the Amazon forest in there!"  
"Papers, at the County Records Office? That's amazing." He steps aside so Lewis can enter and closes the door behind him.  
"And none of them were catalogued. If I hadn't got lucky, I'd have been there all week." Morse walks back into the living room while Lewis casually leans in the doorway, studying the bottles on Morse's drinks tray.  
"Have a beer, Lewis," Morse says, wondering why Lewis suddenly seems to be waiting for permission to help himself to something.  
Lewis happily complies and chooses a bottle while Morse goes to put away the La Traviata LP he'd been listening to. "So you did get lucky?"  
Lewis flips through his notepad and starts recounting. "Ebenezer Knox. Born 1813 in Woodstock. Educated at Winchester and Balliol." He takes a gulp of his beer. The hours spent amid dry old paper have made him thirsty. "Became the youngest justice of the peace in the county. In 1841, he and another man bought a piece of land. You'll never guess what the other man's name was."  
"Radford?" Morse suggests.  
"Right, Sir." He winks at Morse but it's lost on the other man as Morse is already staring into the distance, which he often does when he's thinking. Lewis drinks some more of his beer while he waits to hear what Morse is contemplating.  
"Three murders in a week, Lewis. The Chief Super was right. There could be a connection."  
"But the pathologist thought there was no connection with Nelson's murder."  
"You're not listening, Lewis." Morse sits down on his sofa, facing Lewis who still leans in the doorway. "Even if we're looking for two killers, they could still be connected.  
They follow this train of thought for a while and, some time during their discussion, Lewis walks over to the sofa, discards his own jacket and sits down close to Morse, which makes the older man look at him in surprise.  
"Making yourself comfortable, are you?"  
"Why not?"  
"In no hurry to get home today?"  
"Nope." Lewis smiles happily.  
"At this hour? What happened?"  
"Ah, nothing. Only, I called Val from the County Records Office, told her I'd probably be busy all night, secrets to uncover and such. She wasn't exactly happy to hear it, but it means I don't have to go home any time soon."  
Morse seems surprised by what he hears and Lewis leans closer. "There's a specific secret I'm dying to uncover."  
"Ah, is there?" Morse asks, quickly catching up with what Lewis is talking about.  
"Yeah. And I think we might have to move upstairs to make that happen."  
An amused smile is tugging at Morse's lips. "Later, Lewis, later." He pulls the younger man into his arms and their lips meet for the first time that day.  
Lewis's hands find their way between them and, not breaking the kiss, he fumbles with the buttons on Morse's already half unbuttoned shirt, finally wanting, needing more than hugs and kisses. When Morse pulls back a little for air, he's laughing. "You seem to be in a hurry after all. I thought for once we could take our time."  
"I am a desperate man." Lewis grins wickedly as leans forward some more to re-establish the contact of their lips.  
It doesn't take them long to lose their balance. Morse ends up with Lewis on top of him on the sofa. As Lewis is supporting his own weight, pushing himself up a bit to take in Morse's now exposed chest, Morse sets to work on catching up. He pulls away Lewis's tie, then tugs on the younger man's shirt until it comes free of the trousers and he can slide his hands underneath. Lewis's skin feels warm and soft under his hands and he enjoys the feeling.  
Lewis carefully lowers himself again, which enables Morse to run his hands further up his lover's back and Lewis to kiss his way along Morse's jaw. He's done that often enough by now not to find the tickling feeling of stubble against his lips irritating any longer. And he finds that when his lips need a break from the stubble, Morse's lips seem the sweeter and softer for it. The different sensations seem so very enticing to him by now though it's something he never knew before. Well, he had never kissed a man before Morse, never even thought about it.  
He shifts and reaches for the buttons of his own shirt, only to have his hands swatted away by Morse. "Let me..."  
Lewis nods and watches Morse's face while the other man unbuttons his shirt.  
"You're beautiful," Morse sighs when Lewis's shirt falls open. He runs his hands over Lewis's chest, then pushes himself up on one elbow so he can place a kiss on his lover's skin. He doesn't care where, he just wants to kiss Lewis. Anywhere.  
"Sure you don't want to take this elsewhere?" Lewis says, not able to keep the need out of his voice.  
Their eyes meet and Morse nods. Lewis climbs off the sofa and holds out his hands to Morse, pulling the older man to his feet and right back into his arms. They kiss again, not able to stand being apart a minute longer.  
Finally, Morse takes Lewis by the hand and walks towards the stairs. "Time to let you in on a secret, then," he says huskily.  
Lewis, grinning like a Cheshire cat, lets himself be led upstairs, his curiosity about the upper floor of Morse's house not big enough to make him take his eyes off the other man.  
Morse leads him into his bedroom, directly at the top of the stairs. Again, Lewis doesn't pay any attention to his surroundings, except for the bed. It looks very inviting and, with his inner eye, he can already picture Morse sprawled across it. He wraps his arms around his lover again and takes up his kissing and nuzzling of Morse's jaw again, slowly working himself down the other man's neck until the shirt collar gets in his way. Unceremoniously, he strips it off Morse's shoulders and continues his exploration along Morse's collarbone.  
It's there, however, that Morse stops him by taking hold of Lewis's face. "Robbie?"  
Lewis, a little out of breath, looks at him slightly annoyed for being interrupted. "Hm?"  
"You've never been with a man before, have you?"  
Lewis shakes his head.  
Morse clears his throat. "Nor have I, well, not really. However..."  
The hesitation makes Lewis look at his lover with concern. "Anything wrong?"  
Morse quickly shakes his head. "No, nothing's wrong." He swallows. "You know I've been in the National Service?"  
Lewis nods, not sure where this is going.  
"Well, we were a lot of lonely young men, far from home... I learned one useful skill back then."  
"Which?" Lewis is still confused by this sudden hold-up.  
"I'd love to show you, I've wanted to for a while..."  
Lewis studies Morse's face and finds nothing but love and need. 'The need for my trust,' his brain supplies. "Show us, then," he says with a soft smile.  
Morse looks relieved and kisses him again. A long, lingering kiss, while his hands begin to work on opening Lewis's trousers.

When his trousers are piled around his ankles and Morse gets down onto his knees in front of him, Lewis realises what exactly it is that Morse wants to do. He looks down at the familiar head in amazement. It's a sight he'd never expected to see, Morse kneeling before him.  
Coherent thought quickly leaves Lewis, though, when Morse runs a finger down his penis before carefully circling the base with his hands and licking the tip, then blowing on the wet patch. Lewis shivers at the sensation. Val would never put her mouth there, doesn't even allow him to lick her, repelled by thought that it's where people pee and you really shouldn't put your mouth there.  
Morse doesn't seem to have any problem with it, though, as he sucks the head of Lewis penis into his mouth and circles it with his tongue. Lewis is amazed by the sensation, unable to pull his eyes away from the head in front of him until the need to close his eyes becomes too strong to resist. The feeling of Morse's hot, wet mouth is too overwhelming. He's unaware of his hands coming to rest on top of Morse's head, his fingers burying themselves in the other man's silvery hair.

Morse never really liked giving another man a blow job when he was in the National Service, but you couldn't only take all the time, you also had to give. Now, with Lewis, though, it's a different story. He wants to do this, wants to taste his lover, wants to pleasure him. And from the way Lewis reacts, he can't be doing too badly. Morse licks and sucks, his hands resting on Lewis's hips. He feels Lewis's hands on his head, his fingers in his hair, holding him close, urging him on. It doesn't take the younger man long to come, his new pet name, Em, falling from Lewis's lips. Morse nearly chokes when he tries to swallow. It's been a very long time since he last did this, but he manages and is quite pleased with his efforts. He pulls away, gently untangling Lewis's hands from his head, holding onto them, and looks up at Lewis.  
Lewis's eyes are still closed and his breath is laboured. Then his lover opens his eyes and they look at each other. Morse squeezes Lewis's hands and the younger man smiles down at him.

Lewis can't quite manage to speak again, so he just smiles and pulls on Morse's hands until the older man stands up, groaning slightly. Lewis pulls him close and buries his head in Morse's neck. When he finally trusts his voice again, he whispers into Morse's ear. "Quite some skill they taught you."  
Morse chuckles happily.  
"Not sure I can manage that, though," Lewis continues.  
Morse pulls away so he can look at Lewis. "Robbie, you don't need to do this. I held an advantage over you, I've done this before. It's all new to you. Anything you want to do is fine." His voice is soft, but he's aware that there is a part of him that is anything but soft.  
"I want to get you onto that bed," Lewis decides and pulls on Morse's hands, taking a step back. Or at least he tries to and is only kept upright by Morse's quick reaction.  
"You might want to step out of your trousers before you try that again," Morse laughs and Lewis joins in. He quickly kicks off his shoes and struggles out of his trousers and boxers before reaching for Morse's hands again, who's been watching him, smiling.  
"You should do that more often," Lewis tells him happily.  
"I'm not sure my knees would like that," Morse sighs, making Lewis laugh out loud.  
"Not what I meant, but I wouldn't mind if you did that again, either. And we can probably work something out to make it easier on your knees."  
"What did you mean, then?"  
"Smile, laugh. Don't always looks so grumpy."  
"I usually don't have much reason to smile or laugh."  
"We'll have to work on that." Lewis climbs onto Morse's bed and pulls him down next to him, then pushes his lover onto his back. He eyes the bulge at the front of Morse's trousers and reaches to cup it with his hand. "And that, too," he declares.  
Morse laughs. "I think there might be a connection between the two."  
Lewis grins at him. "Ah, do you? Then we'll have to put your theory to the test." He leans down to kiss Morse, then pulls back and curiously looks at the older man. "Is that how it tastes?" He asks, licking his lips.  
"It's what you taste like." Morse smiles up at him, amazed how easily Lewis seems to adjust. Maybe he had him wrong all along, maybe Lewis isn't as prudish as he thought, just very... private.  
"Interesting," Lewis declares and kisses him again before trailing kisses down Morse's chest, his fingers following the trail. He enjoys the feel of the soft hair covering Morse's chest. Everything is so very different with him from what he's used to with Val, but it's different in a good way.  
When he reaches the top of Morse's trousers, he quickly opens the belt and the button, then very slowly kisses every inch he can reach underneath the waistband without opening the zipper until Morse groans. "Don't be such a tease."  
Lewis chuckles against his lover's skin but complies and continues to undress the older man. Morse obediently lifts his hips when Lewis nudges him so he can pull the trousers off, whisking down the other man's briefs at the same time. He takes a moment to take in the sight before him and he smiles contentedly. "Mine," he declares and takes up his kissing again, along one hip, then over to the other side, then back up to meet Morse's lips. "Anything I want to do?" He asks between kisses.  
Morse simply nods and pulls Lewis in for another long kiss.  
Lewis rolls onto his side and pulls on Morse's far arm to make him roll over, too. He entangles their legs and takes up stroking down Morse's side, then cups his buttock with his hand, all the while exchanging kisses with his lover. Lewis's other hand is cradling Morse's head, enjoying the soft feeling of the fine hair.  
Finally, he releases Morse's buttocks and reaches between their bodies and for Morse's penis. He takes his time, familiarising himself with the feel of another man's penis in his hand, before he gently starts stroking, trying to think of how he sometimes touches himself in the shower, how he likes it, what feels good to him.  
Morse's breathing comes quicker, which Lewis takes for a good sign. He keeps running his fingers through his lover's hair while taking up a steady rhythm with his other hand.  
When Morse finally comes, it's only Lewis's hand in his hair that keeps him from throwing his head back. His release comes quietly, only a light groan accompanies it, but Lewis is amazed by every oh so tiny reaction, amazed that's him who brought this on. He holds Morse in his arms until the other man recovers and opens his eyes. Morse reaches up to gently stroke Lewis's cheek. "Will you stay?"  
Lewis turns his head to place a kiss in Morse's palm. "If you don't kick me out."  
His answer is rewarded with a happy smile. "I'll never kick you out."  
"Afraid I can't stay that long, but I'll gladly stay the night."  
"Good," Morse mumbles contentedly and sleepily.  
Lewis holds him close for a bit longer, before becoming aware of the stickiness between them. "Em?" He quietly asks.  
"Hm?" Morse already seems half asleep.  
Carefully, Lewis disentangles himself and goes looking for an upstairs bathroom, not wanting to go downstairs naked. He finds it on the other side of the hall and quickly returns with a wet cloth and carefully cleans them both as well as he can without waking Morse, then discards it on the floor and crawls back into bed. Morse instinctively reaches for him in his sleep and Lewis happily snuggles up in his lover's arms and pulls the blanket over them.


	16. Fighting, When Ended, Is Soon Mended

_They try to spend as much time together as work and Lewis's family allow for, but their bliss doesn't last too long as a new case brings them back down to earth. And once again it's Morse who finds he needs to remind Lewis to be careful in public._

**Investigation of the murder of Jackie Thorn  
Inside Morse's Jaguar outside their temporary incident room, Morse and DS Maitland are in the front, Lewis is in the back seat  
**Lewis comfortably leans on the back rest of the driver's seat, close enough to be able to smell Morse who is asking him about make of the previous car of their victim.  
"I can find out," Lewis says.  
"Go on then."  
"Right." Lewis replies, not budging, too content where he is.  
Morse waits a moment, then looks at Lewis in the rear mirror and finally turns. Lewis, catching the look on Morse's face out of his eye, snaps out of his dreamlike state. "Oh, right." He quickly gets out of the Jaguar.

_But there aren't many moments like this for them and once again it's their attitude towards the job that proves how different they are. Morse tackles the case with such fervour that he is willing to ignore rules and regulations. Lewis, however, is not willing to accept his superior's transgressions, but when he cannot stop Morse, he decides to rather go home than to be part of it. But this soon proves to be only the start of their differences on this case. When he arrives back at the incident room the following morning, Lewis finds a note from Morse, asking him to look into an old case. The only positive thing about the note is the signature, "M". Lewis takes it as a safe way for Morse to sign with his new pet name, trying to tell his lover he's not angry that he baulked out the previous night. It's not very comforting, though. He's still annoyed at Morse for not only bending but actually breaking the rules. Of course Lewis doesn't mention it to anyone, but he catches himself snapping at his colleagues, though they have done nothing wrong.  
A while later, Morse calls, asking Lewis to come and pick him up at the home of the young woman whose file Lewis has been studying throughout the morning. Morse's Jaguar broke down and needs to be towed away, leaving the Chief Inspector in need of a ride. Lewis, upset that Morse didn't even wait to hear what the file said, thinks it's time they talk. Alone._

**Phillipa Lau's street, the tow truck leaves with Morse's car  
**"Fancy a drink, Sir?" Lewis asks.  
Morse looks at him questioningly. "What's the matter?"  
"Just asking if you want a drink."  
"Well, something's the matter. How many years have I known you? You don't often ask me to go for a drink."  
"Well, I'm asking now." Lewis sounds annoyed.  
Morse catches the tone, understanding that it'll take Lewis a while to say what is bothering him. "All right. Strangely enough, I know quite a decent hostelry a few minutes' drive from here."  
They set off for Lewis's car but Morse suddenly stops again. "Oh, no. Wait a minute. I can't, can I? I've got a driving lesson. And I've paid for it. You couldn't give me a lift? We can chat in the car." Lewis scowls but doesn't decline Morse's request.  
They walk on and enter the driveway Lewis parked in.  
"This is where the Lau woman lives. She wouldn't open the door," Morse explains to his junior partner.  
"You probably scared the living daylight out of her." Lewis's tone is accusing and Morse turns to look at him across the roof of Lewis's Vauxhall.  
"What?"  
"Phillipa Lau. Did you not think about that? She'll be terrified!" He sighs. Why wait? There's no time like the present, so why not just get it over? "You just trample around, don't you? You're supposed to be so clever. Sometimes I think you're just a bloody fool."  
He's got Morse's full attention now and for once Morse is the one trying to stay calm. "Lewis, calm down and tell me what's eating at you."  
"Why don't you wait and read the case notes before you go stirring up the past?" He reaches into the car and produces a file from it that he throws onto the car roof, annoyed with Morse's attitude. "If you can't be bothered to read the whole lot, just look at the last page. It's a signed confession."  
Morse looks at him, stunned. "It's what?" He picks up the file and opens it to the last page."  
"A signed confession." With that, Lewis gets into the car.  
Morse, studying the document, takes the passenger seat and Lewis starts the engine.  
When he finishes reading, Morse closes the file and places it in his lap before turning to look at Lewis who is grimly clutching the steering wheel. "That's not all, is it?"  
"No."  
"Go on, tell me. Get it out of your system."  
Lewis hesitates a moment, trying to decide on how to say what's on his mind. "I can't go on like this," he finally says.  
"What do you mean?"  
"It's not the first time you've broken the rules. There was that letter, now going through Boynton's papers without a warrant. I don't want to be part of that any longer. If you don't care about the rules, it's your choice, but I care. Maybe it's best if I asked for a transfer."  
Morse is shocked, he hasn't expected Lewis to react so strongly. He needs to stall for time before he feels he can reply to it, so, when Lewis speeds around a corner a little too fast, he says the first thing that comes to his mind. "I could tell you a lot about your driving already, Lewis. A lot of problems."  
Lewis sighs. "You're not taking this seriously, are you?"  
"I am. Yes, I am. My case is falling to pieces, my car is falling to pieces, I can't have a drink and my Sergeant wants a transfer. Yes, I am taking it seriously."  
"I don't want a transfer. I just think perhaps it would be..." He hesitates, no, he doesn't want a transfer. He wants Morse to stop acting so foolishly. "I don't know." He can't make himself say it.  
"Anyway, you may as well know I'm not accepting any of it, except maybe the drink. I am not accepting any of it!"  
They arrive at the driving school and Morse gets out of the car, still holding the Lau file in his hands. Lewis gets out, too, and, out of habit, catches up with Morse within a few paces. "Sir, there's a man in prison." Taking up the 'sir' the moment they're not in private any longer is just as much habit as following his boss around is.  
"I think we pay him a visit," Morse decides.  
Lewis isn't happy about that. "Oh, he's more than a hundred miles away!"  
"Well, he can't come to us." Morse spots his driving instructor approaching. "Hello Derek."  
"All well?" The instructor asks.  
"Fine," Morse lies.  
Derek turns to Lewis. "Sergeant?"  
"Derek." Lewis is not in the mood for lies, not even little white lies. And he's not in the mood for being left behind just like that, so he calls after Morse when his boss starts to walk off with his driving instructor. "So, what am I doing?"  
Morse turns and walks back to him and pushes the file into Lewis's hands. "I want to meet this man. And tell Maitland to call Phillipa Lau. It might be better coming from a woman. Derek, you won't mind if Sergeant Lewis uses your phone?"  
"No, use the one in my office, my shed. You have to dial nine for an outside line."  
"See you in an hour or two," Morse says, stating in those few words that he fully expects Lewis to be there when his lesson ends.  
"Great," Lewis replies, the sarcasm so obvious that even Derek picks up on it.  
"I'll wipe the smile off his face, Sergeant. We're off to the skid pan."  
The thought makes Lewis grin a little. Morse deserves it, he thinks. But, as they have established that a transfer is out of the question, he decides he'd better get to work. Arranging a meeting with Gerry Firth takes him only a couple of phone calls.

**The next day in Lewis's car on the way to visit Gerry Firth in prison  
**Morse, brought back down to earth by his time on the skid pan and a good telling off by Strange, is in need of reassurance. "So," he starts, making Lewis throw him a sideways glance. "You're not going to ask for a transfer then."  
Lewis sighs. "No, you're not getting rid of me."  
"I'm very glad to hear that."  
"But you can't go on like this. You can't keep breaking the rules like that. They're there for a reason, you know."  
Now it's Morse's turn to sigh. "Yes, Lewis, I know. I'm sorry that I tried to draw you into it. I should have known better."  
"You should have known better than to do it in the first place. All you're achieving is getting yourself into trouble. And me reassigned to God knows who when the Chief Super feels he's got to suspend you for real."  
Morse looks at Lewis for a long moment. "Whom, Lewis. To God knows whom."  
"Don't change the subject."  
"Sorry."  
There's another silence before Lewis speaks up again. "Yeah, I'm sorry, too. For calling you a bloody fool and all."  
"I don't know, Lewis, maybe you've got a point there."  
"Well, just a fool, then, not a bloody fool."  
Morse chuckles. "All right, a regular fool. If you think you can work with a fool as your superior."  
"Makes me feel the more needed?" Lewis suggests, now chuckling, too.  
"Oh, I do need you, Lewis, believe me, I do."

_Lewis remembers those words loud and clear when the case comes to an abrupt end in the form of a car crash in which their murderer ends up dead and Morse with an arm in a sling. Lewis uses the latter as an excuse with his wife to sneak off to Morse's after dinner. "He needs help, luv, just an hour or two, I promise." It's a promise he doesn't manage to keep as he's gone for nearly four hours in the end. Four very enjoyable hours in which he helps Morse shower. Or rather, takes a shower with him, a long and very satisfying experience for both of them._


	17. What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stronger

_The death of a woman belonging to Morse's choir is about to put the relationship of Morse and Lewis to the test. Can it survive or will their love be destroyed? Lewis is faced with a conflict of interests when he's assigned to Chief Inspector Bottomley to investigate the death and Morse's possible involvement in it. He's determined to get them both through it, but a long and hard battle awaits the lovers.  
_

**Investigation of the murder of Beryl Newsome  
The opera house, Lewis has reported back to Bottomley about the interviews he conducted with the choir members and now has to face some uncomfortable questions about Morse  
**"Look, Lewis, what's his um... sort of sex life been all these years? Any idea?" The Chief Inspector asks. Lewis tries to keep a straight face. He tries so hard not to let anything on that he's standing very stiffly, adding to his discomfort with the situation.  
'All those years,' he thinks, that doesn't include the last month or so, does it? He never discussed what was before their relationship with Morse so he can answer the question pretty honestly. "No, Sir. Not really. Not much, I don't think."  
"No. And people do sometimes, suddenly, if they're disappointed or humiliated perhaps..." Bottomley pauses, hoping for some reaction from Lewis, but the Sergeant just stares as blankly at the Inspector as possible.  
"He drinks a lot, doesn't he?" Bottomley goes on.  
"Not when he's driving, Sir." Again true, if not the whole truth maybe.  
"Look, I know Morse doesn't altogether care for me."  
"He doesn't care much for anybody, Sir." Lewis is desperately trying to hide the fact that there is one person Morse cares about - himself.  
"No, but he'll do his damnedest to solve the case himself, won't he?"  
"I wouldn't put it past him."  
Bottomley seems to realise Lewis is more wary of him than of Morse, for he changes tack, trying to lure Lewis onto his side. "He didn't do it, I'm sure of that."  
'Like hell you do,' Lewis thinks.  
"So I've let him go. But I want you to keep an eye on him. This is a murder inquiry, Lewis, and not even your Chief Inspector can be above suspicion."  
Lewis nearly flinches when Bottomley calls Morse his Chief Inspector. Surely he can't know... no. No way. "What am I to tell him, Sir?"  
"Anything you like. Given your relationship, I expect you'll tell him the truth, won't you?"

_Bottomley is right about that, of course. Lewis is relieved to get away from the questioning and back to Morse's side, even though Strange had to suspend the Chief Inspector. He knows it won't stop Morse so he thinks he'd better be there to make any inquiries legal. Morse seems equally relieved when Lewis returns to his side, though he's not happy about Lewis being there to play babysitter for him.  
_

**In Morse's Jaguar on the way to visit Desmond McNutt in Reading  
**"I suppose you haven't said a word to Bottomley? About us, I mean," Morse says after a while.  
"No. I didn't tell him much in the first place, which I don't think he liked. But he let it pass."  
"Robbie, you have to promise me this: Under no circumstances must you tell anyone about our private relationship. No matter what happens, do you hear me?"  
Lewis looks at him, concern written all over his face. "You think this might turn bad?"  
"I'm not sure. But I do have a bad feeling about this. Not a word, all right? For your own sake."  
"My sake? What about you?"  
"I need you to be involved in this investigation, legally. If I can't do much, you must. And as long as no one knows about us, they won't question your actions."  
Lewis nods though he's anything but happy. "You must have a very bad feeling about this."  
"I do," Morse sighs. "Unfortunately, I do."  
Lewis takes a deep breath. "Right, then. Not a word from me."

_Lewis gets tempted to break his promise to Morse, so very tempted; when Morse is arrested, when he needs to go through Morse's house with Bottomley, pretending not to know it inside out, each time he sees Morse's sad face in the holding cell at the station in front of his inner eye. It really costs him a lot not to let anything on when all he wants to do is take Morse into his arms and hold him tight.  
_  
_As if the situation wasn't looking bad enough already, allegations against Morse come up from his personnel file, allegations of assault, the mishandling of a former girlfriend. Lewis cannot believe it, doesn't want to believe it, but it's there, black on white. He's totally confused, unwilling to believe that Morse might not be the man he thinks he is. He is incredibly relieved when he gets a chance to speak to Morse about it, hears that it's all wrong, one look into Morse's eyes is enough for him to know Morse isn't lying to him. But it's so difficult to be alone with Morse in the cell and yet be unable to reach out to his lover.  
Lewis struggles through it all, manages to find evidence for Morse's innocence and the moment he arrives at the holding cells with Bottomley to release Morse feels like one of the happiest moments of his life.  
_

**The cell Morse has been held in, Bottomley and Lewis are standing in the door while Morse gets fully dressed  
**"So... what are you going to do now?" Bottomley asks.  
"I'm going down the pub," Morse declares. "I'm going to show my gratitude to Lewis in the time-honoured way, just as soon as they're open.  
Lewis beams at him over Bottomley's shoulder. "Open all day now, Sir."  
Morse raises his eyebrows and nods appreciatively as he steps out and turns in the direction of the exit.  
"You just got to sign the form, Sir," Lewis says and holds out a clipboard to Morse.  
"Yes, of course," Morse says and signs.  
Lewis drops it off with the duty sergeant and they head for the nearest pub. Morse is very silent while they walk, so Lewis speaks up first.  
"I missed you," he quietly says. "I couldn't sleep, I was so worried."  
Morse looks at him, his smile betraying his own relief at being free again. "Worried that the walls might be closing in on me or that the duty sergeant might decide to rough me up a little? No one likes corrupt policemen, Lewis."  
Lewis rolls his eyes at him. "Nah, nothing like that. Just, you know, if we'd be able to prove them wrong."  
Morse looks down, then straight ahead. "Thank you, Lewis. Thank you for believing in me when no one else did."  
Lewis doesn't know how to answer to that, so he just looks at Morse, and when the older man turns his head in his direction, their eyes meet for a short moment. But it's long enough to express the thoughts and feelings they can't voice.

At the pub, it really is Morse who buys Lewis a drink. The pub is practically empty at this time of day, but still they are careful. They sit side by side on a bench, close, but not quite touching. Just close enough to be sure of the other one's presence without having to look.  
"It's quite interesting, being the hunted for once, instead of the hunter. You should try it. Gives you insight into the criminal mind," Morse muses after a while.  
"You have a look in there and make sure he's not going to kill you." It's the safest way of saying 'I don't want to lose you' Lewis can come up with.  
"I don't think so," Morse replies solemnly. "I don't think I've suffered enough yet."  
"Well, he's had you locked up."  
"That was inconvenience, not suffering. Good hard beds in those cells, by the way. You should try it. Good for the spine."  
Lewis flashes a quick grin, but it doesn't last. They're not out of danger yet and, as relieved as he is about Morse's release, he's still worried.  
Morse picks up his discarded pint and drinks. "As this is good for the brain. So drink up, Lewis. You've had a couple of good ideas today, but we'll need more from you tomorrow.

_When Lewis gets a call from the police headquarters the next morning, informing him of a fire at Morse's place, he verbally rips off the poor colleague's head for not calling him sooner. He races over to Morse's house, full of worry, only to be kept from rushing directly to Morse by all the people milling about, the Chief Super among them. At least Morse is all right, Strange tells him, and Lewis is sure of it when all Morse can do is complain about the loss of his vinyls and the bad recording used for the trap that caused the fire. Lewis cannot help but laugh, he's so relieved to see Morse well and alive. He'd hug and kiss him right there and then, in the middle of the scorched room, but Dearden is there so Lewis once again needs to hold back.  
But at last, the case is officially assigned to Morse and the detectives manage to track down De Vries._

**In Lewis's car outside De Vries's house  
**"Is that him?" Lewis asks when a man emerges from the front door.  
"That's him."  
"Seems we're just here in time," Lewis remarks as De Vries is loading suitcases into the trunk of his car.  
"Where's she?" Morse asks, looking for Mrs. Brooke.  
"Gone to the bank, like I said?"  
"I hope so. Is she in it with him or not? That's the question."  
"Must be, surely."  
"Not if she's dead."  
De Vries brings out more suitcases. "Here he is again."  
They watch him for a moment. "Why do you want her to be innocent, Sir?" Lewis can't help himself, he needs to know if Morse has any personal interest in the woman. The two seemed to be getting on rather well earlier on.  
"I'm old-fashioned," is Morse's reply, which Lewis takes as a no to his real question. It's a relief. He's not really in any position to be jealous, with Morse being his fling on the side of his marriage, but still...  
"All right," Morse shakes him from his thoughts. "You stay here. If I'm not back in five minutes..."  
Lewis looks at him in alarm. "Oh, no, no, no. None of that! I'm coming with you."  
Morse stares ahead, a grim expression on his face. "It's me he wants. It's me he's going to get. Or rather, it's me that's gonna get him. Call Bottomley if anything looks wrong." He opens the door to leave.  
"Shouldn't that be 'I who am gonna get him', Sir?" Anything to make Morse look at him, not to leave just like that. And Morse does indeed turn and look at him, sees the concern in Lewis's eyes as Lewis sees the determination in Morse's.  
Morse finally leaves. "Block the drive," he tells Lewis who does his best to focus on the job, not on his worry for his lover.

Five minutes come and go and Lewis cannot sit still any longer. He blocks the drive and informs Bottomley over the radio, then walks up to the house, keeping an eye on the windows but he can't make out anything with the curtains closed. He rings the doorbell and calls for Morse but nothing happens until, suddenly, a shot is fired and Lewis freezes for a second before he takes up his ringing again, calling louder. "Sir?" Nothing. "Are you all right, Sir?" He bangs on the door, rings the bell again, anything to get a reaction from inside. "Can you hear me, Sir? Sir? Sir!" He's growing desperate, doesn't even think about his own safety, that De Vries might come to the door, armed. The only thing he can think of is Morse. "Sir? Can you come to the door, Sir?"  
Finally, Morse opens the door, looking terrified but unharmed.  
"I thought I heard..." Lewis starts, looking past Morse, finally remembering that there could be a madman with a weapon behind him.  
"He's shot himself!" Morse stares at him, shock written all over his face, then heads back towards the next room.  
Lewis follows behind. "Oh, God!"  
But Morse stops just inside the door and stares at the empty room. "He was there. He was lying there!" The curtains in front of the terrace door are swaying gently in the wind and realisation dawns upon Morse. "Oh, my God. That whole thing, the whole ..." Morse's voice trails off.  
"What?" Lewis asks, bewildered, when Morse heads to the front window just in time to see De Vries drive off in Lewis's car. The Chief Inspector leans against the window sill, exhausted and exasperated. "You bloody fool. You left your keys in the ignition! God almighty."  
Lewis is contrite, looks around the room.  
"He fooled me again," Morse says with a big sigh.  
"He won't get far. Not in my car. Bottomley must be here any minute. I was talking to him over the radio before I came up to the house."

_Bottomley does indeed arrive not long afterwards and, after a quick briefing by Lewis, puts out an APB on Lewis's car. Lewis and Morse stay behind, though, waiting for a patrol car to pick them up. It's their first chance to talk.  
_

"I thought I'd lost you," Lewis says while he studies all the pictures of Morse on the wall. "When I heard that shot, my heart nearly stopped."  
"So did mine," Morse mutters so gravely that Lewis turns to him. "I thought he was going to shoot me, and possibly go after you next. I'm not sure which thought was more terrifying."  
Morse seems to be on the verge of losing his balance so Lewis quickly walks up to him and pulls him into his arms. The older man clings to him as if his life depended on it and Lewis just holds him and murmurs into his ear until Morse straightens and gently pulls away. "Thank you, I... I really needed that."  
"To be honest, I've been needing that for the last couple of days already. Only I never got the chance. We were never alone."  
A car pulls up outside and Lewis goes to the window to see who it is. It's the patrol car that has been sent for them. "Time to go," he says and offers Morse an encouraging smile.

**The same evening at their favourite pub  
**"Can you stay at your house at all?" Lewis asks over the rim of his alcohol-free lager.  
"Yes, thankfully it's only the living room that's been truly affected. The whole place stinks, but I should be all right to stay there."  
"Won't it be... I don't know, a bit scary? I'd probably be having nightmares."  
Morse looks at him, amused. "You? The man who doesn't get bad dreams even after seeing the most dreadful of corpses?"  
"They're not personal, but if it was me home..."  
Morse nods, understanding. "I don't have a choice, do I? And isn't it what everyone suggests in such situations? Returning to normality as quickly as possible?"  
"I suppose so. Is there a lot of damage? I mean, it looks bad, but, is the structure OK?"  
"Thankfully it is. I'll need to have the whole living room renovated, though, and at least the hall needs painting, too, maybe the kitchen as well."  
"So you'll be living with a different stench soon, fresh paint. Can't be much better than the remains of the smoke."  
Morse looks at him questioningly. "Lewis, is there anything you're trying to tell me with all this?"  
Lewis grins at him. "I was just thinking, a hotel room might offer welcome privacy. Thought you might be glad to get some after all of this."  
Slowly, Morse is catching up with his Sergeant. "And I suppose you're drawing a fine line between privacy and solitude?"  
"Oh, very different things, those two," Lewis says, grinning a little wider.  
Morse leans back and smiles at him in return. "You know, Lewis, sometimes you have brilliant ideas..."

_If this case has done anything for them, it brought them even closer together, proved their trust in each other, their love. De Vries couldn't kill their love, he made it stronger._


	18. The Promise

**Two weeks later at Morse's newly renovated house  
**It's eerily silent when Lewis pulls up outside his lover's house. No music blares from the windows, which seems very unusual, making him wonder if Morse actually is home.  
But he needn't worry, Morse answers the door on Lewis's first ring, his open shirt collar visible underneath the apron he's wearing.  
"Ah, Lewis. I hope your early appearance doesn't mean someone got murdered?"  
Lewis smiles. "Nope, no dead bodies, Sir."  
Morse steps aside to let his guest enter. "In that case, you're more than welcome to come in."  
"What – otherwise I wouldn't have been?" Lewis asks in a playfully hurt tone.  
Morse smiles at him. "Don't be daft. You're always welcome." He places a gentle kiss on his lover's lips after firmly closing the front door.  
"I'll remind you next time I interrupt one of your operas."  
Morse sighs. "Not that many of them are left, I'm afraid. And I don't have a new turntable yet, either."  
"I'd have thought that'd be the first thing you'd replace."  
"Oddly enough, I considered a sofa to sit upon a more urgent matter. What are you hiding behind your back?"  
"Ah, nothing gets past you," Lewis jokes and produces a brown envelope from behind his back. "I brought something for you."  
Morse takes it and looks at Lewis questioningly. "What's this?"  
"A present. I'd have wrapped it, but I thought the neighbours might be suspicious if I showed up here with it... open it!" Lewis beams at Morse with such excitement that the older man needs to laugh and obediently opens the envelope.  
He pulls out a book and smiles when he studies the cover. It's a copy of the Rochester book that was destroyed in the fire. Gently, he runs his hand over it.  
"Don't you want to look inside?"  
Morse looks up at Lewis again, surprised by the urgency in the younger man's voice. "I read it before, you know."  
"Not this copy."  
Morse studies his lover's face for another long moment, then opens the book and his eyes fall upon a handwritten inscription on the inside cover.  
_"That faithful Sergeant you disown, will in obedience keep his love unknown; Within these sacred halls however, his love for you burns bright forever."_

_**The End**_


End file.
